Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 9 Ratmen

"Hey, Fafnir, Martha, Allen, how's the work assignment going? I just got these students to their dorms to rest," Victor said cheerfully.

"The first floor is the male dormitory, and the second floor is the female dormitory. Students live in rooms with four to five people. Generally, only first to third-year students live here."

Boarding is mandatory for grades one through three, while grades four and five, being higher grades, are generally day students.

"Hello Mr. Victor, the work is basically the same as at the manor, but it should be a bit easier. At the manor, a day's work is always ongoing and never ends," Fafnir replied.

"Do we also live with the students?" Martha asked cautiously.

"Of course not, we're colleagues," Victor said. "You live in the faculty housing, in that little house next door."

However, not many people live there. Most faculty and staff live nearby, so who would want to live in the faculty and staff dormitory?

"Are we... are we considered faculty and staff?" Allen asked softly, this was the first time he had asked a question on his own initiative.

"Haha, little Allen," Victor laughed, "isn't that right? Don't feel uncomfortable."

I have some good news to tell you.

Now only the three of you and I live in this building. Come on, I'll take you there.

The faculty and staff dormitory is a two-story stone building, located right next to the student dormitory building.

Fafnir and his party followed Victor and opened a creaking wooden door, revealing a narrow but clean corridor.

"Kids, pick your own rooms, any empty one is fine," Victor said, standing at the dormitory entrance. "I'm going to the teaching building to find Professor Ze Ruo. I'll be staying in the innermost room on the second floor. If you need anything, just knock on the door."

Fafnir chose the room on the first floor, towards the back, while Martha and Allen chose a room next door.

The key was in the door. I pushed the door open. The room wasn't big. There was a bed, a table, and a chair. The window faced the backyard.

However, the room was full of dust, and the dust particles floating in the midday sun were particularly clear.

Fafner put down his bundle and stood at the door for a while.

Let's go get some cleaning tools first!

Fafnir went outside and saw some students who had found dormitories walking from the teaching building, carrying mops and buckets.

So Fafnir called Martha and Allen, and together they went back to the logistics office on the first floor of the teaching building and knocked on the door.

"Please come in."

It was the same indifferent voice. When I saw him again, several students were standing beside me.

"We meet again. Are you here to pick up your mop and rags too? And the bucket is right here."

Fafnir separated from Martha and Allen to get their cleaning supplies.

Fafnir carried a small bucket and a mop, his hands full.

Where's the rag? Where's the rag?

Fafnir searched carefully for a while and found a rag on a chair near the corner of the wall.

He walked towards the corner of the wall, and just as he bent down—

"You are a rat-man."

The voice came from behind, and it wasn't a question.

Fafnir turned his head. Two boys stood in the doorway, looking three or four years older than him. One had red hair and a round face; the other was tall and thin, with light-colored eyes and ears that were slightly blunter than those of a pure-blooded elf—he probably had some human ancestry.

The one who spoke was the tall, thin one.

He didn't look at the others in the room, but stared at Fafnir. His gaze was calm, not like a provocation, but more like confirmation.

Fafner didn't say anything.

“I can feel it,” the tall, thin boy said. “Spiritual perception—it’s taught in the first week of the introductory course.”

He paused, then continued, "Elven blood is golden with a radiant glow, human blood is pure white, and ratmen are..."

He didn't finish his sentence. The red-haired boy completed the rest: "Black. Like a hole."

The two boys exchanged a glance, neither showing disgust nor mockery. Their faces held more curiosity, as if they were observing a mouse that had unexpectedly appeared in the classroom.

"Where are you from?" the tall, thin boy asked curiously.

"I used to be a handyman at Lorraine Manor. I just arrived here today; I'm a new volunteer."

"You're from Lorraine Manor? Is that Viscount Lorraine's residence? Are there many ratmen there?"

"I don't know," Fafnir said.

The tall, thin boy tilted his head. "You're a rat-man yourself, don't you know?"

Fafner did not answer.

The tall, thin boy wanted to say something more, but the red-haired girl pulled him aside, and the two of them didn't ask any more questions and stepped aside from the doorway.

Martha walked over from the side carrying two rags and two mops. She glanced at the two boys but didn't say anything. Alan followed behind her with his head down.

"Let's go," Martha said softly.

Fafnir picked up the rag and left the logistics department with Martha and Allen.

In the hallway, the tall, thin boy's voice came from behind, very low: "It really is dark, just like in the textbook—"

"Alright," the red-haired man interrupted him.

The three walked back to the faculty dormitory, pushed open the creaking wooden door, and found the corridor quiet except for the muffled chimes of the clock tower in the distance outside the window.

"Those two people..." Martha hesitated for a moment, "What did they say?"

"It's nothing," Fafnir said.

Martha glanced at him but didn't ask any more questions. The three of them went back to their rooms.

Fafner placed the bucket and mop in the corner, closed the door, and stood there for a while, the dust still floating in the sunlight, before starting to clean.

He first wiped the table and windowsill with a dry cloth, which stirred up dust that made him cough twice.

He soaked and wrung out the rag, then wiped it again. The tabletop, which was originally covered with a layer of grayish-yellow dust, now revealed the dark brown wood grain underneath.

He wiped the chairs, bed frames, and doorknobs one by one. Finally, he soaked the mop and dragged it from the innermost part of the room outwards. When he reached the door, he looked back and saw that the floor had a thin layer of water on it, and the smell of dust had faded a bit.

He carried the dirty water to the backyard to pour it out, then brought back half a bucket of clean water and let the mop drain by the side of the bucket.

The sun was shining brightly outside the window, and several school uniforms were hanging to dry in the backyard, swaying back and forth in the wind.

Behind the backyard is an alley, and you can vaguely hear vendors calling out their wares—it's quite far away, and you can't make out what they're selling.

Fafnir sat down on the bed. The bed was hard, much like the basement room in the manor, but the windows were large and the light was plentiful.

He recalled what the tall, thin boy had said earlier.

Spiritual perception is taught in the first week of the introductory course.

He himself might have some kind of spirituality, but he couldn't see the colors the tall, thin boy had described—the golden glow of the elves, the pure white of humans, the black of the ratmen—he couldn't see anything.

The boy was ten years old, twelve at most. They had just entered school, yet they were already able to discern lineage through their spirituality.

Fafnir took out the book "The Commandments of the Church of the God of Death" from his bundle, flipped through it, and then put it back.

There was a knock on the door outside.

"Little Fafnir".

It was Victor's voice. Fafnir got up and opened the door.

Victor stood at the door, having removed his armor and changed into a black cloth robe, carrying a small cloth bag in his hand.

"The room is nice," he said, glancing inside. "Has it been cleaned?"

"Hello Mr. Victor, I just finished wiping."

"You're quick," Victor said, handing him the bag. "This is your lunch. The cafeteria wasn't open yet today, so I bought it from outside."

Fafnir took it. The bag was warm, and smelled of bread and smoked meat.

"thank you."

"No need to thank me," Victor said, leaning against the doorframe. "How are you getting used to it?"